


All Alone For Christmas... at first anyways

by heartsdesire456



Series: 25 Days of Fandom [22]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Mugging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2829536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsdesire456/pseuds/heartsdesire456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was Christmas. The first Christmas since SHIELD fell. The third since Phil died. First since Kate left. First since Grillz died. Natasha was in the wind, Steve was pretty cool, but he was also in the wind, and Stark and Banner kept inviting him over but he didn’t really <i>know</i> them, you know? So here he was. Him and Lucky. Sitting in his apartment. Shooting things and singing Christmas songs. </p>
<p>(Or the one where Clint is spending Christmas alone and ends up saving a kid from a mugging)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Alone For Christmas... at first anyways

**Author's Note:**

> This one is pretty terrible, I'll admit, but I can't focus on shit today. Apparently I shouldn't take NyQuil... even if I took it 13 hours ago and slept for 8 hours. I never get sick so I haven't had NyQuil since I was about 12. It fixed my cough, that's for damn sure, but FUCK ME I've felt ODD all day since I woke up. Not BAD. Just odd.

“I MET A MAAAN WHO LIVES IN TENNESSEE.” Clint knocked another arrow, drawing it. “HE WAS HEADIN’ FOR-“ He released the arrow, smiling when he hit the target. “Ha! Oh, yeah, FOR PENNSYLVANIA AND SOME HOMEMADE- ah fuck- PUMPKIN PIEEE!” he sang, tripping a little as he tried to get another arrow. He sighed, looking at the trail of arrows from his quiver to where Lucky was chewing on the wooden arrows he hadn’t already eaten. “Lucky!” he complained, picking up chewed up arrows as he walked over. He took them away and Lucky whined, giving him the most ‘puppy eyed’ look a one-eyed, shaggy old dog could give him. “Bad!” he chastised. 

He looked at the target on the far end of his living room and sighed. “Aw, arrows,” he mumbled. Clint had got bored and decided to put up a target in his living room and, since his bow was too strong and his carbon arrows would definitely go through the target and out the window, he had bought a kids-draw-strength target bow and made some wooden arrows out of dowels from the hardware store. 

It was Christmas. The first Christmas since SHIELD fell. The third since Phil died. First since Kate left. First since Grillz died. Natasha was in the wind, Steve was pretty cool, but he was also in the wind, and Stark and Banner kept inviting him over but he didn’t really _know_ them, you know? So here he was. Him and Lucky. Sitting in his apartment. Shooting things and singing Christmas songs. 

He looked at Lucky, and the destroyed arrows, then sighed. “So much for that one.” He looked around and decided he would spend the rest of Christmas day as absolutely hammered as possible. He walked over to the refrigerator, intent on drinking whatever alcohol he had, only to open the fridge and remember that, oh yeah, he didn’t generally drink, meaning he didn’t own alcohol. “Hey Lucky, let’s go for a walk,” he decided, going to get his jacket and Lucky’s leash. 

When he was ready to go, he and Lucky headed down the stairs, ignoring the sounds of holiday celebrations and kids playing with new toys all through his building. He loved it, don’t get it wrong. He loved his friends and neighbors all having a great holiday with their families. There were kids in his building that he knew could have ended up like him if anything had gone even slightly different, so he was super happy about it.

It just made him remember that he was lonely.

The closest open liquor store was a few blocks away, but it wasn’t snowing, just cold, so he wasn’t worried. Lucky seemed happy to get out of the house, even if he was usually a lazy ass. His tongue lolled and his tail wagged as they walked, and it made Clint smile. “You’re kind of the best friend ever, you know that, right?” he asked his dog, leaning down to ruffle his fur affectionately. When they did get to the liquor store, he was so engrossed in enjoying watching Lucky happy that he was pretty bummed at having to leave him outside for a minute. “Stupid dog laws,” he grumbled, tying Lucky’s leash to the lamp post before running into the store.

When Clint came back out, he was a bottle of Bacardi heavier and pretty sure his Christmas was about to get at least a little less depressing. He untied Lucky and smiled. “C’mon, Dog,” he said warmly, ruffling his floppy ears when he petted him. “IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS – a drunk one at least –“ Clint sang Christmas songs all the way home because… well why not? And it wasn’t until he was nearly home that he heard something to make him stop singing.

“I said NO!” 

It was an innocuous enough thing to hear from an alley and he almost kept walking, except it was followed by a much deeper voice proclaiming, “Boy, I will CUT YOU! Give me your money!”

And yeah, okay, that was a little more worrisome. 

Clint tugged Lucky and headed down the alley, and, sure enough, he came upon a guy with a knife threatening a guy with his hands in his pockets, clearly unwilling to part with his wallet. “Hey,” Clint called out and, when the guy being threatened looked at him, Clint realized with a pang that that kid couldn’t be more than about fourteen. He was almost as tall as Clint, sure, but he had the gangly limbs and the baby-face that suggested he was just a kid. 

The guy with the knife shot him a dark look. “This ain’t your fight, old man,” he said, and Clint raised an eyebrow. He took in the guy’s dirty red hair and acne covered face and figured he couldn’t be but in his early twenties. Muggers were getting younger and younger, Clint had noticed.

“Yeah? You think?” Clint asked. He walked closer. “Get away from the kid,” he said in a darker tone, dropping Lucky’s leash so Lucky didn’t follow him. “Look, I said back off.”

Lucky growled behind Clint and the guy with the knife looked at him. “Hey, shut that dog up, man,” he said and Clint walked closer. “Hey! Don’t you come here-“

Clint shifted the bag in his hand and grasped the neck of the bottle, letting the bag fall off as he moved fast and swung the bottle at the guy’s hand, knocking the knife out, before bringing the bottle down against the guy’s elbow, knocking him forward. “Fuck, my arm!” the guy cried, swinging with the other towards Clint, but Clint just swung the bottle again, hitting him in the head with it this time. The glass shattered against the side of the guy’s head, and the guy went down like a log. Clint sighed, looking at the broken bottle neck in his hand. 

“So much for a drunk Christmas,” he said.

“Oh fuck.” Clint looked up at the boy’s utter of surprise, only to blanch when he saw that a shard of glass had lodged itself in the boy’s forearm, through his sleeve. “Shit,” he cursed, hand clutching at the glass.

Clint jerked. “Whoa, hey don’t-“ The boy cried out as he yanked the glass out, leaving a half-inch cut on his forearm that was now gushing blood. “Aw, Kid, no.” Clint sighed. “If you take out the object, there’s nothing stopping up the blood.” He walked over but the kid jerked away, stumbling back. “Whoa,” Clint said, holding out his hands. “Come on, I just saved your ass, I’m not gonna hurt you-“

“Hey, don’t try that shit,” he cursed. “Nobody helps without wanting something and I’m sure as hell not sucking your dick,” he said and Clint raised an eyebrow, giving him an alarmed look.

“Uh, that’s good, cause I’m really not a pedophile,” he replied. “Look, let me see that.” The boy gave him a suspicious look and Clint tilted his head. “Look, Kid, I’m not leaving you here to bleed half to death. What’s your name, anyways?” Clint asked.

The boy sighed after a moment and rolled his eyes. “Josh,” he said, and Clint nodded, holding out his hand for the boy to walk closer. The boy held out his hand, but jerked back when Clint tried to touch him. “Just look,” he warned and Clint held up his hands.

“Alright, alright.” He leaned over some, looking at the blood pouring down his wrist. “Dude, we have to take you to a hospital, that is really bad-“

“No!” Josh said quickly. He put a hand over his bleeding cut and held it to his side, getting blood on his already ratty jacket. “No hospitals!”

“Okay, okay,” Clint said, stepping back a step. “Look, Josh, you need a doctor-“

“No, I’ll be fine-“

“You’ll bleed out,” Clint said, pointing at his wrist. “That might not bleed out fast, but that’s an open vein. You’ll bleed to unconsciousness before that stops. It’ll bleed sluggishly.”

Josh gave him a narrow eyed look. “Oh yeah, and how would you know?” he demanded.

Clint raised an eyebrow. “If you could see the scars all over me, you wouldn’t question me.” He looked Josh over, taking in his appearance. His skin was a light brown color, but he was dirty. His black hair was cut short to the scalp, but the dirt around his temples suggested he hadn’t had a bath in a while. He didn’t smell oppressively but he looked unclean, suggesting he’d been a few days on the dirty streets at least. He didn’t look malnourished yet, so it had to be recent. His eyes were big and a pale blue/green, which didn’t help in making him not look super young. “Let me guess, you don’t want a hospital asking questions?” Josh nodded. Clint looked at the bruise on his jaw and bit his lip. “Did somebody kick you out?”

“I left,” Josh said strongly, looking at Clint defiantly. “I left and I won’t go back.”

Clint shook his head. “It’s okay, I’m not trying to drag you home if your dad hits you,” he said, and Josh startled some. Clint smiled sadly. “You’re not the first kid to have an abusive dad.”

“My mom,” Josh muttered, looking away. “I don’t have a dad.”

Clint nodded, fighting the pang of anger and anguish he felt for this kid. “Josh, how old are you?”

“Why’re you asking?” Josh demanded, voice brittle with fear. “I’m not going back there-“

“I know, I know.” Clint sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright.” He looked around. “Alright, look. There aren’t any clinics open this time on Christmas day and a homeless shelter won’t take you if you’re underage without reporting you.”

Josh rolled his eyes. “I know this stuff, thanks.”

Clint shook his head. “I’m not letting you stand out here bleeding.” He glanced down at the unconscious mugger. “Also, he’ll wake up eventually,” he added. “I don’t have anything at home to patch you up with.”

Josh shot him a look. “Wow. Thanks for being even more useless,” he said and Clint raised an eyebrow.

“I saved you from being stabbed,” he stressed. Josh looked at him, then looked down at his arm, then looked back at Clint. Clint grimaced. “And then accidently did it with glass instead, okay, so I’m not perfect!”

“You’re not even slightly perfect, it seems,” Josh added.

Clint just snorted. “Alright, look, Josh, I’ve got a friend-“

“I’m not fucking them either-“

Clint grimaced. “Will you stop? You’re a kid!” He sighed. “Look, I’ve got a friend that owes me like… a ton,” he explained. “If I call him, he’ll send us a car and we can get you patched up there. Nobody will report you or anything.”

Josh glared at him. “Yes, because getting in a random car with a stranger is such a great idea.”

Clint glared. “Okay, then we can go to the hospital-“

“No, that’s fine,” Josh argued, glaring at him. “But if you try anything I’ll- I’ll… kick you. Or something,” he said, flushing.

Clint snorted, then knelt down, grabbing the discarded knife the mugger had been using. “Here.” He handed it over. “If you feel threatened, you can stab me,” he said, and Josh eyed him suspiciously before taking the knife.

“I’ll do it,” he threatened and Clint chuckled, nodding.

“I don’t doubt it.” He went back and grabbed Lucky’s leash. “Come on,” he said, leading the way for Josh. 

It wasn’t the ideal Christmas. Nat was still gone, Phil was still dead, and he didn’t have any real friends to hang out with. However, as they got into the car set to take them to Stark Tower so that he could bum a first aid kit off his friends and fix up Josh’s arm, Clint figured that saving a homeless kid from a mugger was better than Christmas could be. 

He was keeping with the spirit of doing goodwill and shit, at least.


End file.
